The drums still echo as Yi Sun-sin crosses the great gates of his residence. Behind him, his men carry the royal banners, and the villagers gathered along the road bow deeply, cheering the man who has purged the seas of the wakō. His features remain unmoved — the hero of the realm, rigid as a fortress.
He enters the inner courtyard. There, the tumult fades. On the stone pavement, his son, now over two years old, plays with a ball of cloth. His mother stands close by, watching him, while a servant keeps a discreet distance.
At the moment the child lifts his head, he sees the silhouette of the general. Still too young to grasp the weight of this return, he hesitates. Then his mother bends toward him, her veil brushing the child's cheek, and whispers a few words in his ear.
As if awakened, the boy leaps up, his small legs running clumsily as he shouts with joy:
— "Father!"
The courtyard falls still. Even the soldiers avert their eyes, as though that single word had cracked the general's armor. The child clings to his armored leg, laughing brightly.
Yi remains motionless. His face stays stern, but his hand rises, hesitates… then awkwardly rests on the boy's head, grazing his hair.
His wife steps forward in turn. She has matured. Her features, calmer now, bear the marks of two years of solitude and quiet strength. Yet in her eyes there is only tenderness. She bows slightly, a faint smile on her lips, and says in her gentle voice:
— "Welcome home, my husband."
A brief silence lingers.
For an instant, the rock seems to tremble.